Let’s Stop Taking ‘Better Call Saul’ For Granted
“I’m an adult, I’m responsible for my own decisions” declares Kim Wexler (Rhea Seehorn) in Episode 10 of Better Call Saul’s third season. It’s a statement that speaks to what makes this show relatively unique in the peak TV landscape: Saul is a drama about adults making poor choices, and the consequences they suffer. There is no spiritual or fantastical influence, no high-concept premise, no massive earth-shattering stakes. In fact, the audience already knows the outcome to this story: Jimmy will become Saul Goodman and get involved with Walter White. All the excitement on Saul is based on finding tension in the smallest details: the most thrilling moments this season involved Nacho spiking Don Hector’s pills and Chuck (Michael McKean) ripping cable from his walls – yet these moments are executed with such a tight gaze and feature such physical nuance from the cast that Saul often feels like the highest-stakes show on television.
That Bob Odenkirk, an improv comedian and collaborator of David Cross’, would end up starring in an acclaimed cable drama and receive several Emmy nominations for his work, is the epitome of why the current TV age is so awesome. Odenkirk is a fabulous, extremely empathetic dramatic performer, but Season 3 has also allowed him play to his strengths as a comedian: Jimmy’s newfound career as a commercial director allows him to don a disguise that wouldn’t look askew on a W/Bob & Dave sketch. My favourite element of this season was Jimmy’s cruel – but amusing – manipulation of a group of elderly women; Odenkirk looks like exactly the type of bingo-caller cad who would orchestrate such a situation. Where Jimmy sometimes feels underdeveloped is in his romance(?) with Kim, which is barely acknowledged this season as they interact almost exclusively as business partners. Until Episode 10, when Jimmy tries to care for her following a car accident, I had almost forgotten the pair were even in a relationship.
Seehorn is Saul’s true breakout: very likeable yet believably 100% dedicated to her trade. She often seems underserved by the show’s story arcs, excluded from major confrontations between parties, but when the show enters the courtroom the scene becomes hers to steal. The episode “Chicanery”, possibly the show’s best to date, presents us with an hour of engrossing, heartbreaking court drama, as Jimmy and Kim try to publicly humiliate Chuck and prove the fraudulence of his condition. The episode sees Odenkirk upstaged (intentionally, I imagine) by Seehorn and McKean – whose stunning performance tears our sympathies back and forth during these 10 episodes – and is funny, tragic and surprisingly affecting. Another episode used a Law & Order structure, dedicating the first 25 minutes to Mike (Jonathan Banks)’s exploits, before flipping to Jimmy and Kim for its latter act. It’s a neat way of dealing with the show’s conflicting dual plotlines, and it could be used more often.
Speaking of Mike, Banks is given sizeably less strong material this season than in 1 or 2: it appears almost that the writers have told his story to almost its fullest extent, pre-Breaking Bad. Given the way his plot is wrapped up in Episode 9, I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t return as series regular for a potential fourth run. The inclusion of Gus Fring, used mostly as a marketing plot for this season, felt quite unnecessary – a one or two-episode arc perhaps, but listing Giancarlo Esposito on the main cast seems like putting the cart before the horse. For me, Saul is best when it’s a cynical black comedy, not a crime epic (that’s why God gave the world Breaking Bad) – I look forward to another season of Jimmy and Kim. Saul may not often feel like essential television, but I know I’ll miss it when it’s gone.
